


One Line of Bull for Dorian Pavus

by snarry_splitpea



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarry_splitpea/pseuds/snarry_splitpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian knows he's not ugly but sneaks out before Iron Bull wakes to avoid being caught with a limp mustache.  His friends scold him for holding back when someone adores him so much.  Iron Bull finds ways to comfort Dorian through his less than confident moments.</p><p>Sixteen short chapters crafted from one line prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You've Changed Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustJasper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/gifts).



> Using JustJasper's prompt at http://justjasper.tumblr.com/post/115608878105/dorian-bull-one-line-prompts-youve-changed-me

Dorian would never claim that his morning ritual demanded more of him than Vivienne's demanded of her.  He would never say he needed the pre-dawn hours to get dressed like Josephine.  There were no billowing skirts to climb into.  No caked foundation to smooth over his face.  Not a false eyelash to adhere to stubby lids.  No tinted paint to line his lips.  Not a digit to paint nor a toe to lacquer.  No long strands to be picked out, detangled, and carefully curled.  Yet, somehow, the three of them always made it to the breakfast table, first.  

Iron Bull had gotten used to waking up alone, no matter how he hated it.  In the first nights of their relationship when the kisses still involved clawed fingers scraping backs and the quickly spent passion of a thunderous fuck, the Qunari had assumed his hasty exits were to keep things casual.  Thanks for the back-breaking legwork.  I'll see you next time my dick is hard.  A state of mutual disrespect and lust.

That part of Dorian that moaned about discretion when Iron Bull flirted outside the bedroom had turned out to be less related to shame and more to fear.  A fear of being deemed inadequate.  If the Vint acted too smitten, he'd have his heart broken.  Or, at least, that's what he'd assumed.  The man had been truly astonished the first time Iron Bull came with his name on his lips, eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapped tightly around him.  Love in his tone.  Devotion.  Truly astonished when Iron Bull held him as he tried to pull away.  Looked at him with drunk and desperate eyes.  Asked him to stay.  Softened while still inside him.  Stroked his back and kissed his chest, neck, and shoulders.

The tenderness had frightened Dorian like nothing else could.  His stomach in knots and heart leaping around his chest while Iron Bull murmured about how nice it was to keep him there.  Asked if they could bathe together.

If Dorian would, finally, stay the night.

Expecting to wake up with a warm body in his arms, Iron Bull hadn't been exactly surprised when Dorian's side of the bed was cold and he found the man fully-dressed at breakfast.

Dorian would never claim that he didn't want to stay in bed.  While living alone, he'd rolled out of his cot while the world outside was in full-swing and trudged up to the table-for-one near his fireplace naked as a baby nug with limp hair falling in all directions and mustache draped unceremoniously over his top lip. He'd spit at the over-long hairs at the corners of his mouth as they attempted to tangle with stale bread and flat ale and even picked his nose.  He was a man, after all.  A mere man.

He was no longer a runaway Tevinter boy hopping from overpriced inn to overpriced inn.  He was no longer a mage attempting to go unnoticed at Tavern breakfasts in an unwashed cloack with unbathed ass.

He was important, again.  A part of The Inquisition.

Someone's boyfriend, for crying out loud.

He couldn't be seen like that.  He even shot under the covers when Iron Bull lit a candle after their fucks.  He'd shot out of the tub and into the bed every night after their baths.  He'd felt his pulse rising at the thought of being seen without pomade in his stylish bouffant and mustache.  Without his eyebrows combed up and trimmed carefully.  Without the tiny smudge of kohl under his eyes.

Sure, Iron Bull was as repulsive as they came.  Constantly perfumed with the stench of dried blood, sweat, and his own arousal. But he'd chosen Dorian.  Of all the people around, he'd chosen Dorian and whispered words of love in the moonlight that drifted through his window.  He'd given up the kitchen maids and lithe soldiers.  He'd not fucked a single Charger in Andraste knew when.  He liked Dorian's pretty face and pretty words and pretty spells.  It was Dorian's hand he held as they circled the courtyard teaching each other the prettier parts of the cultures they'd grown up hating.

Dorian shivered at the thought of rejection.

What could have been simple fun had become the most important part of his life.

"Dorian, I don't want to upset you.  I know how frantic you get," Iron Bull began one day over breakfast.  

He'd woken up with his boyfriend and watched through a discreetly cracked eye as Dorian walked languidly through his bedroom, collecting his dirty clothes and righting a few skewed bits of decor they'd overturned the previous night.  He watched as Dorian washed his face in his corner basin and scratched his itching bottom.  He'd nearly chuckled as he watched Dorian stick his butt toward a mirror and look over his shoulder.  He poked at the spot he'd scratched.  He'd cursed about mosquitos and his own skincare routine.  Ruminating out loud about the value of simply tossing Iron Bull's crappy soap or perhaps the new lotion he'd picked up in Orlais.  

Still nude, the Tevinter narcissist shot tiny warming spells at the spot on his ass, hoping to somehow deal with what might have been a tiny sign of infection.  He grumbled about nurses and Cole and Iron Bull.  Caregivers that wouldn't take it well if he did so much as sneeze over the pepper on his chicken dinner.

At the time, Iron Bull had simply observed.  Sweet and respectful of Dorian's neurosis.  The Vint was 50% bravado and 50% fear.  Had he ruined himself by leaving Tevinter?  Had he ruined himself by falling in love with Iron Bull?  Would he ruin his relationship with Iron Bull by doing normal human things like leaving his hair uncombed at breakfast and picking at spots?  Iron Bull knew he had these worries and did his best to soothe them.  However, the direct approach always started arguments.  He wondered if it was better or worse to just outright say "I love you, no matter what."  He knew Dorian loved the attention and the affection.  He knew Dorian still shrank away for fear of scrutiny.

"I do not get frantic," Dorian had responded before taking a sip of water.  The food wouldn't arrive for another hour.  He was surprised that Iron Bull had beat Josephine and Vivienne to the table, for once.  Dorian had put a particular emphasis on the word 'frantic,' implying that he knew he sometimes got a little close to 'frantic' but wouldn't call it that, himself.

"Oh, I misspoke," Iron Bull smiled.  Watching as Dorian drank from his stemmed goblet, Iron Bull's expression soft and eyes incapable of leaving Dorian's face.  Incapable of ignoring such beauty even for a moment.  Even though he had it more than memorized.

"Well?  Are you going to stop staring and go ahead and upset me?  I'd like to be over it by lunch so I can get some work done, today!"

"I worry that I've changed you, somehow."

"You've changed me?"

"Did you always beat Vivienne and Josephine to breakfast?"

Iron Bull made his voice deeper and elongated his words.  Relaxing tones.  Ones he used when facing a cornered beast that he didn't want to hurt, but also didn't want lunging out at him. Meanwhile, Dorian's voice grew more and more shrill with each rebuttal.

"I know you never have before today!!!"

"It's not an accusation.  I just want to know," 

"I was always quite early, but... no... I never arrived first prior to sleeping in your room." 

Dorian seemed to deflate as he spoke.  Iron Bull could see most of the tension leaving Dorian's shoulders.  Wanted to rub the rest out of him.

"I want you there.  Every night, I want you in my room or I want to be in your room."

"I... noticed..." Dorian's brow furrowed in confusion.  He took another careful sip of water.  He had no idea what Iron Bull was bringing all that up for.

"Let's try washing our faces, together, tomorrow morning."

Dorian froze.  He held his cup aloft.  His thoughts obviously thrown off course by the unexpected and nonsensical request.

"I'll keep my eyes closed the whole time."  

"That makes no sense.  It makes no sense and I don't understand."

"Let's just try it."

Dorian finally pulled the water to his lips but instead of confidently holding the goblet's stem, he cupped the bowl with both hands and seemed to bury his nose in it.  Iron Bull almost didn't hear him as he grumped out a tiny "fine" before gulping some of it down.


	2. Stay With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part alludes to dubious consent but DOES NOT describe it at all. It does not occur between Dorian and Iron Bull. They're 100% consensual.

As a result of Dorian's morning habits, Iron Bull didn't know what it was like to roll over and give him a good morning kiss. He didn't want to be selfish. He didn't want to make demands that sent Dorian running. Yet, in all his years, he'd never followed a night of passion with a cold morning walk to breakfast. Even his least permanent arrangements had led to morning sex before forever parting ways. There was something savory about sunlight, yawns, and stinking breath.

Dorian was not much of a cuddler and The Bull had taught himself to turn his back on the tiny body that he wanted nothing more than to hold through the night.  So, while it was important to Iron Bull that his lover felt comfortable, he couldn't help but feel neglected, himself.

He wondered if Dorian knew.  He assumed the mage didn't.  Dorian was generous in a way that no one else was.  His kindness spoke to Iron Bull's maternal heart.  He loved deeply despite his self-conscious habits.  If he knew Iron Bull felt even the slightest bit unloved, he'd smother his great, grey body in kisses from horn to toe.

Iron Bull knew why Dorian desired to stay in darkness while they made love.  Moonlight was forgiving in a way sunlight couldn't be.  While Iron Bull knew there wasn't an inch of Dorian that needed an apology, he would never want to make love to someone that wasn't in their most relaxed and happy mood.

For that reason, he didn't even use kisses & hugs to relax a lover.  A shoulder rub, with permission, and a kind word, sure.  Because of his intimidating size, he never wanted to make advances when someone was emotionally compromised.  

Especially not a man from Tevinter with tales like Dorian's.

Dorian joked of times he'd heard playful jests from would-be lovers about how his father might react to news of his weekend habits.  He'd laughed knowing they would come knocking, eventually for favors.

He laughed about lovers that were too rough in all the wrong ways.  How he'd thought to leave at times.  How he'd seen the affection in their eyes as they pleaded, "Stay with me."  

How there had been jokes about the time one affectionate fellow had bruised his entire arm and nothing in his flashy wardrobe could cover it. 

How he was not sure, to that very day, if he had even found a good lover prior to Iron Bull.

Iron Bull remembered stories like that coming up over drinks with the Chargers.  How they'd all heard enough rants from Iron Bull and seen him stab enough pushy bachelors over girls he'd never met.  The silent pleading in their eyes followed by silent "thank yous."

Krem had placed a hand on Iron Bull's shoulder as Dorian told his tales. The rest of the bar a riot of smiles and laughter. The Qunari was slowly crushing a brass goblet with one hand.  The metal silently folding in on itself as he schooled his rage. Some thought it to be a lover's jealousy.  His friends knew it to be a deliberate and focused anger toward pushy men he hoped to never meet.

 


	3. Are You Afraid of Me?

Dorian, despite frequent conversations with Vivienne over breakfast and around the castle, had never been summoned to any place she considered private..  He was shocked the day she invited him to afternoon tea.  Especially considering her comments in the field about how he always smelled faintly of Iron Bull.  Dorian had been shocked to find liquor in her teapot.  As he pulled his face back from the cup after a light sniff, he'd seen her smiling into her own.  She finished it off in one long, smooth, gulp.

"Lady Vivienne!" He'd said before taking a shy sip.

"Tea is harder to come by, out here, than spirits.  I save my favorite herbal blends for Josephine and Cassandra."

"You take tea with Cassandra?"

"Oh, my.  Do you think you're special, my dear?"

Dorian couldn't help but to sneer at her.  He did, in fact, think he was privy to some noble pleasures she usually enjoyed alone.  They argued a lot, but it was only a bit of playful banter.  They both knew that no other person in the keep would stand so tall against such cutting tongues.  If Dorian were to say the things he said to Vivienne to Varric, he'd have one of Bianca's bolts between his eyes in no time.  And Varric was as cool as they came.  

Vivienne and Dorian were catty, together.  He had come to the conclusion that their bond was important.  He believed, until that moment, that he was, as she put it, special in her eyes.

"Oh, don't sulk," She'd laughed as she poured more definitely-not-tea into her cup and reached over to serve him, more.  Though the liquid was lukewarm, she still held the pot with a decorative pad and tilted the spout as if avoiding smoke.  "If it makes you feel any better, I have no immediate plans to spend my freetime with Sera, Cole, Iron Bull, or Commander Cullen."

"I don't know if I'm more shocked that you don't want to spend time with Cullen or that you do, apparently, spend time with Varric," Dorian said.

"Varric is a treat, Dorian!"

"Is he?"

"I've never been keen on men of his stature but that voice, that chest hair, that gossip!  He's practically irresistible!"

"I don't believe my ears!"

"This, from a man that sleeps with a walking dreadnought," said Vivienne.

Dorian deflated suddenly and quite obviously.  Vivienne knew he'd be terrible at The Game.  He became flustered too quickly and wore that big, bleeding heart of his right on his sleeveless shoulder.  With a sigh, Vivienne placed her cup and saucer back on the table and stood.  Righting the back of her robes before rounding the coffee-table, she took a new seat right next to him.

"Darling, I'm going to be quite maternal.  Don't let it shock you," She warned.

Dorian couldn't help but stiffen as she slid an arm across his shoulders and resisted a bit more as she pulled him into her bosom.  She stroked the side of his face that wasn't touching her cleavage and hummed, softly.  This gesture mixed with the alcohol was almost enough to put him right to sleep.  He hadn't been relaxed for long before she chuckled.  He could feel the mirth in the way her chest vibrated more than he heard it.  Even with his ear so close to her lips, he could barely tell she was laughing.  He wondered how often she silently laughed at the people around her.  People thought Vivienne to be so cold, but no ice queen hugged her friends for so long and with such gentle arms.

"Vivienne, I know that men the world over would trade their very souls for the opportunity to be where I am now... but I've got to admit I don't know where this is coming from."

"Are you afraid of me, darling?"

Dorian almost immediately laughed at the idea but realized she wasn't attempting to call him a coward. It wasn't a question of which one of them could best the other in combat.  It wasn't a question of which could crush the other under the weight of well-placed rumors. It was something else.  Something very personal for her.  He still didn't quite get it, but there was a tone of defeat in her voice.  A tone he'd never heard from her.  He relaxed even further, pushing his left arm behind her and his right arm across her lap so he could hold her, too.  He didn't know how to respond but made a small noncommital noise.  Not a yes.  Not a no.

"I've never told anyone that I like Varric's chest hair," Vivienne whispered.  He chuckled into her breasts and she shuddered a bit.

"I fear that we'll both have to carry this to our graves.  Varric would be nothing short of insufferable if he knew that we both adored that triangle of masculinity that he teases us all with on the battlefield!"

"I know more than anyone the risk of fighting without a breastplate, but Dear Maker the advantages of fighting with nothing there, at all!"

"I've seen you distract even the most threatening Venatori spellbinder!"  Dorian was nearly crying with laughter. "..but... Honestly, Lady Vivienne, I have no idea how I haven't lost this arm!"

"We all adore that arm, Dorian.  If someone were to lay a finger on that shoulder, they'd be cast to the void!"

"And despite my particular leanings, I must say that I would mourn even a single scar on your perfect bosom."

They settled into a companionable silence.  Neither of them ending the hug despite the fact that they'd never hugged each other for long, before.

"Dorian, I dare say you are my very best friend in all of Skyhold."

Dorian was floored.  He was quite sure that not a soul had seen her sipping liquor from a teacup or had been invited to rest on her chest indefinitely... but he still couldn't feel anything but shock.

"Lady Vivienne, I..."

"Viv, darling." Vivienne corrected him.  He'd heard her shut down many a too-friendly, too-soon acquaintance, Iron Bull included.  He gaped, though she couldn't see it.

"Dorian, you and I are quite the pair.  I feel such disappointment when we can't go on missions, together.  Whom else but you can I complain about tents with?  Trevelyan tries so valiantly to seem okay with everything."

"God, he's such a nuisance," Dorian complained.  Did he respect the Inquisitor?  Definitely.  He'd also trust the man with his life!  He just hated seeming petty next to the Inquisitor's constant sacrifices. 

"All that good breeding gone to shit," she snickered.  He wouldn't point it out, but Lady Vivienne had even let go of the most unattractive snort.

"Cassandra's barely better!"

"To snub her family so eagerly!"

"And in conversations with strangers, no less!" Dorian still couldn't quite call his father all the names the man deserved unless he was talking to someone he wholly trusted.  Cassandra rolled her eyes at the very mention of Pentaghast blood.  

They both gasped in exaggerated horror and fell into giggles, again.  Dorian had never seen the woman so relaxed.  Their laughter settled once more and Vivienne finally got to her point.

"You've seemed off, lately," Vivienne said.  Her hand lazily stroking his hair.

On one hand, he wanted to ask her not to ruin his precious hairstyle.  On the other, he didn't want to scare her away.  Having Vivienne show such affection felt rare and fragile.  Like getting to stand one foot away from a baby halla as it drank from a babbling brook.

"Off?"

"Yes, dear.  Stressed.  Nervous."

Dorian felt a chill tremble through him.  He'd hoped nobody noticed.  If Vivienne had picked up on it, then surely Iron Bull had made the same observation.

"I just want you to know that I care for you, darling.  We all care for you.  And... we all have our hang-ups."

"You?  Hang-ups?"

"The whole world thinks I'm terrifying when I am just a woman.  I'm sure you think the world wants you to be perfect.  But, Dorian, you are only a man."

Dorian wanted to be angry with her for bringing it up.  He wanted to argue.  Yet, his only thoughts were swarming around the fact that Iron Bull had probably noticed, too.

"How obvious have I been?"

"Honestly, I probably watch you more than most.  But I do believe you owe your boyfriend a few apologies."

"Viv..." Dorian whispered her name as if trying it out on his tongue like a powerful spell one had to be careful of.

"Yes, darling?"

"Thank you for this."

"I'm glad you liked it.  It won't happen, again."

"Why do you have to ruin things?"

"Surely a Tevinter slattern is accustomed to fleeting moments of affection?"

"Not any more than a harlot from Val Royeaux."

She laughed again as she pushed him off of her lap, his body only missing the coffee table because he'd braced for such a stunt.


	4. I'm So Sorry

After dinner, Dorian had every intention of finding Iron Bull.  He was especially determined to catch Iron Bull before the great beast of a man made it back to his bedroom.  He knew that once they were behind the heavy, wooden door with the curtains drawn shut, he'd be too distracted to have the conversation he'd promised Vivienne was coming next.  He'd be too engrossed with scarred skin.  Occupied with heavy cock.  Busy with solid horns.  He needed to find Iron Bull at the tavern or perhaps sparring under the night's full moon in the courtyard.  

Instead, he'd spent far too much time in his own bedroom practicing what to say.  He'd even attempted, multiple times, to write down his thoughts.  He wasn't sure if he planned to read from them like prepared vows at a wedding or if he wanted to just toss a rolled parchment at his lover before scurrying from the room.  In any case, the writing hadn't worked and he was back at his mirror saying Iron Bull's name over and over again in random pitches and tones.  When he finally started looking for his boyfriend, it wasn't quite late enough for him to be in bed, but possibly too late to catch him sober.

What he found in the Tavern were confused Chargers.

"Well if the boss wasn't with you after dinner, I wonder what he's up to," Krem said while standing on his chair.  The man was obviously tipsy, but not drunk enough to have forgotten any message Iron Bull might have left for Dorian.

What he found in the courtyard were a miscellany of staff members and soldiers that hadn't seen Iron Bull for hours.

Dorian's heart trembled in his chest.  He wondered if in telling Iron Bull he'd be busy until bedtime, the Bull had found someone else to spend the after dinner hours with.  Dorian didn't think The Bull would cheat on him, persay.  The mercenary captain was notoriously loyal.  Yet, he knew that they'd both ended decades of one-night-stands and orgies to be with one another.  The temptation never really crossed Dorian's mind, but he didn't know how much Iron Bull valued monogamy.  Incidentally, that topic had come up between he and Vivienne once before.  She'd scolded him for trying to keep things loose.

"Claim him and be claimed!  ...or find yourself upset about preventable circumstances," he remembered her saying.  He ran a miserable hand down his face as he entered the tower Iron Bull's bedroom rested at the bottom of.  Sighing, he let his forehead thunk onto the over-large door and paused for a moment to collect himself.  

He supposed it wouldn't hurt to undress alone and wait for his boyfriend to return.  Dorian wondered if he'd be able to talk once he saw Iron Bull's bulk approaching him in the near darkness while dropping his chest harness, belt, and breeches.  They hadn't learned, yet, to be one of those couples that just lounged around and enjoyed chit-chat while naked in each other's arms.  

Their passion burned as brightly every night as it had the first night when Dorian stumbled into Iron Bull's room and demanded the qunari watch him strip.  The memory was an embarrassing blur, but Iron Bull loved to remind him how it all began.

"You followed me to my room, that night.  You scared the living shit out of me.  I'd just gotten back and was bent over to unlace my boots.  I heard your drunken singing and stumbling in the hallway but didn't assume it was -my- door you were opening.  Then, just as the damn thing slammed shut you slapped my ass to Tevinter and back.  Hurt worse than any dragon bite.   I thought you'd lost your mind!"

"Iron Bull, don't.  Don't tell me this, again," Dorian always begged.  The last time he brought it up, they were already half undressed and getting ready for bed.  Dorian just wanted to enjoy is boyfriend's company, not relive the most mortifying and arguably most rewarding night of his life.

"I'm so sorry to hurt your little feelings, but this is the only thing that soothes my ass-trauma."

"For God's sake, don't call it that!  And speaking of trauma to one's derriere, what do you think I go through every night!"  
  
"Haven't heard you complaining." Iron Bull beamed down at the grumbling mage.  His smile kind and searching.  He always seemed to look at Dorian to find out what wasn't being said.  
  
"And you never will!  Now, get over here and traumatize me, again."

"Oh, I'm gonna traumatize that ass, alright." Iron Bull said with a wink, making Dorian cringe.  
  
"Do you hate the word 'ass' or something?" Iron Bull asked.  
  
"Or something, more like.  Get naked.  I haven't got all night."  
  
"Hahaha, fine fine.  My little impatient richboy likes telling me what to do."  
  
"I like it better when you don't talk back."  
  
Iron Bull dropped to his knees and, for a long while, kept his mouth occupied with other endeavors.  
  
Dorian groaned against the door he was leaning on.  He'd let his mind wander to far.  In no time, his face wouldn't be the only thing pressing against Iron Bull's bedroom door.

"Dorian, is that you?" 

Dorian leapt away from the door as if burned.  He didn't manage to contain his startled yelp and Iron Bull immediately laughed with all his qunari might.  Dorian bristled.  He couldn't see his boyfriend but could easily picture the way the man leaned all the way back with his hands clutching is great gut.  Mouth wide open and good eye squeezed shut.

"Well, aren't you coming in?" Iron Bull finally managed to stutter out between deep breaths.  The qunari seemed to exhaust quite easily outside of battle, as if adrenaline was his only fuel when facing down an adversary.

Dorian felt a tide of guilt wash over him with staggering impact.  How dare he assume his nothing-but-loyal boyfriend had spent the early hours of the night chasing kitchen maids.  Iron Bull was an expert spy.  The kind of man that knew a client's deepest desires and a potential Charger's deepest sins with little more than a polite conversation.  He'd know Dorian long enough to recognize that the mage would probably melt into a useless blob of self-pity if betrayed.  Not that Dorian liked to admit that part of himself existed.  It was there, though.  Something else Vivienne had probably picked up on, as well.

After he took too long to respond, Iron Bull's bedroom door whipped open, revealing the completely nude Qunari, warm flickering light, and the overpowering smell of roses and sweet wine.

It took only a glance for Dorian to notice that the candles surrounded the bathtub, not the bed.  There was also the strong presence of another mage's magic.  
  
"Dalish came over to keep the candles from burning down the keep and to make sure our bathwater would stay warm.  She also made me a little peep-free blindfold if you're going to make me use it."

"I asked the Chargers where you were, after Dinner!"

"Uh... let's just say that I'll never lie to you, but they will if I ask."

"Pleasant thought," Dorian grumbled.

"I've always dreamed of doing this for someone..." Iron Bull said, looking over his shoulders at the candles with mild concern on his face.

"I've always dreamt of someone doing this for me."

"So... you like it?"

"Of course!" Dorian realized he wasn't exactly beaming with excitement or bursting with gratitude.  In apology, the mage crossed the threshold into Iron Bull's bedroom and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's girthy waist.  He then pressed a tiny kiss to Iron Bull's belly because he couldn't possibly reach the man's lips without significant help or effort.

Iron Bull leaned slightly forward, reaching over Dorian's head to shut the door behind them.

With a light chuckle, Dorian detached himself from Iron Bull.  He glared up at the man, playfully before pulling down the latch on the door and sliding the door's chain into place.

"You're going to deny me the whole "getting caught mid-fuck" fantasy forever, hmm?"

"Yes, Amatus.  I enjoy my privacy."

"Speaking of privacy... the blindfold?"

Dorian felt guilty over how comforting the idea of blindfolding Iron Bull was.  He loved to look at Iron Bull's body.  The worst part of not wanting to be seen was not getting to see.  He loved his boyfriend's pebbled nipples standing at attention along with his arm-length cock.  The way the massive organ twitched beneath his hands must have looked quite gorgeous.  He loved the feel of Iron Bull's cuts and scrapes.  They mapped out tiny mountain paths and valleys that lead to his soft but pert ass.  Iron Bull's dusky skin glistened beautifully when he sweat.  Dorian longed to see it clearly in the bathwater.  To keep the lights on while fucking his gigantic lover sounded like a dream come true.  Yet, he truly wasn't ready to be seen, himself.  It made no sense, least of all to Dorian, but...

"Yes.  I think it's the perfect idea. I owe Dalish my thanks and I owe you..." Dorian sighed, running a hand through his hair as he used the other to unclasp one of his many belts. "I owe you all of Thedas on a platter."

"I just want that ass on a platter."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, IRON BULL!"

"God, you're hot when you're pissy."

Dorian pouted and rolled his eyes.  He loved this wretchedly obnoxious man.


	5. I've Never Done This Before

"Alright..." Dorian stared at the over-large tub.  They'd shared it, before, but hadn't exactly attempted any athletics in it.  In fact, even the bed was entirely the wrong height and hardly the right size for the way Iron Bull liked to bend him over, face down in the mattress, prop one leg on the cushioned top and the other on the floor.  That position, all heavy thrusts with a gripping fist on Dorian's right hip to steady him, was better suited to a bench or even a coffee table.

In fact.

The coffee table in Dorian's private sitting room had been the scene for such acts so often that the Tevinter mage barely felt decent entertaining guests around the polished wood, oval.  Despite how keen he was to keep his sitting area impeccably neat and sanitized, he always worried that some subtle piece of evidence would fall into view while the inquisitor or Lady Montiliyet were in for a visit.  
  
The tub was large enough for Iron Bull, and barely that.  The prospect of any sort of bathtime gymnastics was intimidating and perhaps a tad off-putting.  Yet, he wouldn't have to worry about guests sitting around Iron Bull's custom tub while his subconscious shouted for him to send them away.  This was a place that could be sacred like the beds they shared.  A place for them, only.

"I've never done this, before."

Dorian groaned at Iron Bull's confession.  All the confidence he'd managed to conjure disappeared in a puff of smoke. If neither he nor Iron Bull could lead the way, they'd both end up injured.  He imagined Dalish's smug face as she saw both of them nursing sprains over the coming week.

"Not to be a buzzkill, but I think we're a little old for the necessary contortions," Dorian said.

"Nonsense," Iron Bull insisted, his still flaccid cock announcing his nervousness even if his mouth wouldn't.  "We're warriors!  Our muscles and joints are at least a decade younger than the average guy our age."

"No, I believe it's the opposite with warriors, Bull."

"Oh, come on!  I'll sit in the tub, you can sit in my lap.  ...bend your knees a bit.  Brace yourself with your arms..."

"That sounds suspiciously like you laying back while I do all the work."

"Hey, you're the reason my back was killing me the last time we hunted a dragon."

"It's not my fault you like tossing me about like a ragdoll!"

"How about we both face the tall end. We can put the chair about an inch from the edge and your foot can go..."

"You know what... how about I get undressed, you get into the tub, and we just do what feels natural?  It's not like you to be so clinical."

"I just... don't want to mess this up."

"You couldn't possibly."

"I know."

"and yet?"

"You've seemed stressed, lately.  I want to do what I can."

As much as Dorian hated it, that only made him want to pull away.  He didn't want people knowing how stressed he was.  How flawed.  It made him a burden.  It made him less of a man.


	6. I Haven't Been Honest with You

They'd had far too busy a day for anything short of falling, fully-dressed onto their cots and immediately into sleep.  Iron Bull, a war-trained Qunari practically from birth, still had just enough energy to attempt a conversation.

"So, uh... Inky and I have been talking a bit," Iron Bull began.  He paused for a moment, waiting on Dorian to chuckle about the way he'd shortened "Inquisitor" but his boyfriend remained silent.  Bull figured he was too tired to have any sort of laugh, at the moment.

"We talked about, maybe for our next mission.  You know, that creepy cave we found, last week.  It would be uh... me, him, Solas, and Cole."

Face down, his drooling lips mashed against the linen cloth, Dorian didn't answer the man.  Thinking himself lucky to have not been heard, Iron Bull turned over on his side and began to snore.

Yet, Dorian had heard him.  . 

He felt grateful that there was exactly three feet of grassy floor between his cot and his lover's because if they'd been in the same bed, he surely would have pushed Iron Bull out onto the floor.

The day had started out like most days in the field.  Waking early and community bathing in a nearby spring.  Chewy stewed meat that, though the soldier boiling it had boasted of pork, was likely something disgusting. Nug innards?  Just a general situation and environment that didn't put Dorian or Vivienne in their best moods.

And on top of it all, Iron Bull's obvious comfort and mood of joyous nostalgia.  The castle seemed to stifle the Qunari, in a way.  Missions were where he truly let himself breath and play.  They were why Dorian had fallen for him, in the first place.  He'd changed from envying the mercenary's comfort to thinking it proved Iron Bull was the best man he'd ever met.  Never stuffy.  Never petty.  Just raw joy and sweet maternal care for the people around him.

There was a beautiful sense of purpose and love for all creation passing between the Qunari and the Inquisitor.    Even in the dreary, unrelenting rain that seemed to follow them all the way from Skyhold.  Even in the stinking glade they'd found to settle down in.

So,  Dorian knew they wanted to get rid of he and Vivienne.  That they'd been talking about him behind his back.  They thought he was a nuisance.  They'd gotten sick of his complaints and Vivienne's ultimatums about what she -wouldn't- do in any given situation.

But hadn't they both endured?  Hadn't they both balked at fighting dragons but ran in, staffs swinging, anyway?  Hadn't they both shied away from bathing in groups, but slid quickly into clear lakes and frothy springs, anyway?  Hadn't they both sacrificed immediately after every complaint?!

Then.

It struck Dorian.

The playful, almost flirty banter.  The shoulder to shoulder, chummy conversations by the fire.  The wordless glances during battle that had their Inquisitor and Iron Bull working almost seamlessly in tandem.

They wanted to get rid of Dorian and didn't want Vivienne around to tell.

His worst fears were finally coming true.  He'd been told to claim Iron Bull and be claimed, but it was simply too late.  The Bull had needs Dorian's fussy ways kept him from sating and Trevelyan was stepping in to fill the gap.

 


End file.
